


The Fancy Dress Party

by Omi_Ohmy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Humor, London, M/M, One Shot, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-23
Updated: 2012-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 08:58:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omi_Ohmy/pseuds/Omi_Ohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco has been pining over Harry for years. Pansy comes up with a plan to get Harry to notice him, which involves everyone dressing. </p>
<p>A bit of fluffy fun I wrote to entertain myself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fancy Dress Party

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to **evilgiraffe** for the speedy betaing, and to **birdsofshore**  for prereading. Also thanks to those who gave their own fancy dress requests/suggestions - I tried to get them all in. This story was inspired by three things: a conversation about fancy dress parties I once had in a pub; looking at lots of lovely Merlin pictures this week; and a scene from a film I was watching when I realised I was in love with the friend who is now my husband (although I only saw the link halfway through writing this). :)
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This fic was written for fun, not for profit

# The Fancy Dress Party

  
"Darling, you have to come. It's going to be _fabulous_ ," said Pansy, with a pout. Draco sighed. He didn't mind a party, but fancy dress? He cringed at the thought. "Now don't look like that, Draco. We just have to think of the right costume for you, and you will be the most beautiful man there." He knew that there was no getting round Pansy when she had that gleam in her eye, so after giving her a steady look of annoyance, Draco nodded, reluctantly. She clapped her hands in glee.   
  
"I'll come, but I want you to know that I _hate_ getting dressed up. I'm only doing this for you," Pansy smiled, and reached out to pat him on his arm before returning to picking at her plate of salad.  
  
"I know you do, but it will be worth it. Blaise will be inviting all his girlfriend's friends. Including–"  
  
"Pansy!" interrupted Draco. "Must we, again? We all see each other all the time. I don't really see why you need to keep engineering these ridiculous situations in the misguided hope that I– he– that–" he faltered, his voice tight, pained.  
  
"Look at you! You can't even get the words out, can you? This is getting silly now," She put her fork down and spoke gently when she continued. "How long's it been now? Five, six years?" Draco nodded miserably. "Just come to the party, and try to have fun. If you speak to Harry great, but really, darling, you need to have fun regardless," she said, picking up her fork again. "Besides, I have a good feeling about this time."  
  
Draco sighed, remembering some of her earlier attempts to get Harry to notice him, and his increasingly hopeless crush.   
  
There had been the time she had persuaded Draco to dress up as the Easter Bunny to give out sweets to the children at St Mungo's. She had hired a Muggle costume for the event, all pink synthetic fur and huge fluffy ears, and it had smelled so bad even before he put it on that Draco knew it would end in disaster. He had managed an hour of bouncing and feeling like an idiot, before he erupted in itchy, weeping hives and had been treated by an amused Harry, in full Healer mode. He hadn't spoken to Pansy for a month after that – it was one thing to undergo a little humiliation in the name of showing Harry that he was a caring and gentle reformed Death Eater; it was quite another having him see him looking quite literally disgusting.   
  
As well as the ideas which involved only him, there were also the group events. Since Blaise had started seeing Ginny, Pansy hadn't stopped scheming. The memory of the outing rowing on a lake – at which Draco and Harry's boat had sunk, leaving them both covered in stinking slime – was still strong. As were many other disastrous outings and activities. At least this plan had the merit of not involving Muggles or going out anywhere. And although it still had the potential to be humiliating, at least _everyone_ would be dressed up.

 

.....

  
With a large dash of misgiving, Draco had agreed to let Pansy provide his costume ("it will be perfect, darling, I promise you"). He spent the next two weeks in a state of near-constant panic. At night he had dreams about being dressed as a rabbit again, or as a pirate but somehow missing his trousers, or a queen complete with a crown. When he turned up at Pansy's rather lovely Hampstead home on the day of the party, he was a quivering bag of nerves. Somehow he had managed to avoid everyone recently, hiding away in his Potions lab, as he didn't think he would be able to talk about the party, knowing as he did that Pansy had planned it purely for his benefit. The thought that perhaps Harry wouldn't turn up brightened his mood right up until Pansy reassured him that everyone had confirmed that they were coming.  
  
"I've had so much fun planning our outfits, Draco! Did I tell you it was themed?" _Themed_? Oh for Merlin's sake, this just got worse and worse.  
  
"No," said Draco, weakly. "You did not mention that it was themed. Do I dare ask what the theme might be?"   
  
Pansy smiled proudly. "I was inspired by our London lifestyles!" she proclaimed, and Draco suppressed a groan. Whenever she mentioned 'London', he knew she meant 'Muggle'. She pulled a small card out of her pocket and unfolded it with a flourish. It was covered in intersecting coloured lines. "I give you the London Underground!" she announced, with great gusto.  
  
"The London... underground?" asked Draco, puzzled. She nodded happily.  
"The Tube. The Underground. A network of tunnels below this fair city, through which trains hurtle, transporting Muggles from place to place!" Draco fixed her with a stern glare.   
  
"The theme is trains?" he asked. "Really?"  
  
"No, silly," she laughed, and thrust the card at him. "The _stations_. Look at their names." He looked down, and saw that the lines formed a map. At regular intervals were little circles, the stations presumably, and alongside them the station names.  
Suspicion mounting, Draco began to read through the names, looking for which station Pansy might have chosen for him to represent.  
  
Some of them were nonsensical. Some were familiar place names: places he knew, like Westminster, London Bridge and Hampstead; others which just sounded like places, like Wood Green or Manor Park. He couldn't see how any of them lent themselves to fancy dress. He kept scanning, looking for which one she could possibly have picked for him. After a minute or two Draco glanced up in frustration.   
  
"Ok, I give up. Which one am I?"  
  
Pansy leant forward and pointed with one manicured talon. Draco followed her finger down and read. No, no, she wouldn't....  
  
Ten minutes later, he was sat on the end of Pansy's bed in front of the costume hanging off the front of her wardrobe. It shone brightly in the afternoon light. Draco gave it one, long look, then put his head in his hands. He was going to _kill_ her for this.  
"Do you need a hand with it?" she shouted up the stairs. "It's gorgeous, isn't it?" Draco didn't bother answering her. There really were no words for how he felt about it at that time. Instead he wearily stood and got undressed, then gritted his teeth and worked out how to get the stupid thing on.   
  
He came down the sweeping stairs feeling half naked, even though he was pretty well covered, and more than a little self-conscious. He had to concentrate just to make it down without the more cumbersome aspects of his costume getting in the way. He stood in her grand entrance way, spying Pansy through the wide archway leading to her drawing room. She was sitting with her feet up, drinking a glass of wine.  
  
She held out a hand and indicated for him to turn around. He shuffled around awkwardly on the spot and she beamed up at him. "Perfect," she murmured. "Just perfect."   
  
She stood and kissed him on the cheek, then reached down into her pocket. She brought out a small tub and rubbed some of its contents onto his face and along his arms, then stood back to eye him critically. "There's one thing missing, and I've got to go get ready myself," she said. "I'll back in a minute. Help yourself to wine but don't spoil your outfit." She skipped out of the room, muttering something about 'perfect' and 'sex god' under her breath.  
  
As soon as Pansy had left the room he rushed over to the large mirror above the fireplace to see exactly what she'd done to him. His face was _golden_. She had smeared it with something, just across his cheekbones and across his brow, but it was enough to make him glow. It made him look other-worldly. A hollow feeling began to grow inside of him, and he found it difficult to breathe; he didn't think he could face anyone, dressed like this. But then he reminded himself that they were all going to be in ridiculous outfits.  
  
After pouring himself a glass of wine and taking a few sips, Draco noticed that Pansy had conjured the large wall behind him to show a giant Tube map, with all the names of the stations. There was a long table in front of it, draped in a white linen and covered in glasses and bottles of wine, with a space left for the trays of hors d'oeuvres and champagne buckets he knew that her incredibly discreet house elf, Tribble, would bring later. He took a few minutes reading through all the names, wondering which she had chosen for herself  Glancing back in the mirror, he had to admit that perhaps she had really chosen the best one for him. He smiled, and felt his stomach relax slightly. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad, after all.   
  
His thoughts were interrupted by a cough from behind him, and he turned to see Pansy. She stood there, looking frankly quite terrifying, dressed as some kind of a warrior. She looked predatory, and not just because of the weapons she carried. She had a metal bodice on, a skirt made of long wisps of sheer fabric, and leather straps which wrapped all the way up from her feet to her thighs. She carried a quiver full of arrows and a bow on her back, and had a sword at her waist. She was also carrying a flaming torch. He turned back to the map, had a quick look for which station she could possibly be, then turned back to her again.  
  
"Who are you?" he asked, puzzled. Pansy walked across the room and stood next to him. After transforming her torch back into a wand, she pointed it at the map. She muttered an incantation, and the word 'Kilburn' began to glow. "Kill and Burn," she said. Draco gulped. She looked amazing, and as if it wouldn't take much to make her live up to the name she had chosen. She laughed at the look on his face.  
  
"Oh honestly, Draco, don't be so silly. You know me, couldn't hurt a fly," she smiled, then stepped back to look at him properly. "And you, you will make him dribble on the floor," she patted him once on his arm, then pointed her wand at the map again. "Let's just get you up here too," she said, whispering the words to make 'Angel' began to glow. She turned back to him with a look of satisfaction. "Only you could carry white robes off, Draco. Imagine what Greg would look like," she tittered. "And as for the wings...." Draco turned to look in the mirror again. The wings were six foot high, made of an impossible number of white feathers. They were, he had to admit, pretty spectacular.  
  
Pansy smirked when she saw him admiring his reflection.  "Now, I did consider an actual halo, but I thought that might be a bit much, even for me, so I've got this for you." She unhooked a gold circlet from her sword, and placed it like a crown on Draco's head. She stood back and admired her handiwork. "Perfect," she sighed. "I swear, if you weren't gay and totally besotted with the speccy one, I'd have a crack at you myself."  
  
Draco smiled indulgently at her. Somehow, he always found himself forgiving her for her wild plans and constant manipulation of his life.  
  
They drank their wine, chose some music to put on Pansy's wonderful old wind-up gramophone, and waited for the other guests to arrive.

.....

  
Draco paced impatiently. Much as he had complained about the party and Pansy's scheming, he both looked forward to and dreaded the prospect of spending some time with him. He didn't for a moment think that anything would happen – why should it after all these years? – but it was just good not to be meeting at the hospital when he came to deliver potions, or at some tedious meeting with a bunch of old farts. As more people arrived, Draco began to fret. Where were Harry and his sidekicks? At every ring of the doorbell he would turn to see if it was Harry, but he kept turning away disappointed.  
  
Still, he had to admit that he was enjoying seeing what everyone had chosen to come as. Blaise and Ginny had arrived first, as Blaise was supposedly throwing the party with Pansy – just an excuse of course, to invite Ginny's friends, including Harry. When they walked in, Draco noticed Blaise first, bursting into laughter straight away. Blaise stopped directly in front of Draco, raised an eyebrow and did a proud turn. He was a wonderful blue elephant, complete with transfigured ears and nose, sitting astride a small pink castle, which was made out of paper mâché, apparently. Whatever that was. 'Elephant and Castle' was now lit up.  
  
Ginny was more of a puzzle. She was wearing jeans and a tight t-shirt bearing a picture of a can of Foster's beer, blue with a yellow circle with a red 'F' at its centre. On her head she wore a wide-brimmed hat, with little corks hanging all around. Only they weren't corks, they were _cocks_. He stared at her, completely thrown. She winked at Draco as the word 'Cockfosters' lit up, and he laughed and shook his head as the penny dropped. Watching the pair of them, he smiled: Ginny and Blaise were made for each other, they really were.  
  
Every time Draco caught sight of Blaise, he would wiggle an ear and Draco would laugh again. No one else made him laugh – not Greg with hammer and wearing a leather apron (Hammersmith), nor Ernie as a wide arching bridge, with a void under his stone shoulders and fancy lampposts sticking out of his head (Archway), nor even Theo with his columns and grand steps (Mansion House). Not until Luna arrived. She had also used transfiguration, and had come as a flushing toilet. Her shiny porcelain face carried a wide grin as she illustrated just how well it worked by pulling the chain. Pansy was crying with laughter as she lit up the word 'Waterloo'.  
  
The doorbell rang again, and Draco looked up to see if it was Harry. A Chinese Dragon (something to do with Leicester Square, apparently, but he really couldn't work out what), comprising of Neville and Daphne and two other people he hadn't quite seen, was obscuring his view of the door. As it moved out of the way – nearly taking Pansy's head off with the tail as it turned – his heart fell a little when he saw the unimaginative dog costume of the person arriving, but lifted when he saw that it was Ron. He looked behind him for Harry, but Hermione walked in next. She was a huge leafy bush, with a sheep peeking out from below her... skirts, he supposed. He wondered who they were, but didn't see 'Barking' and 'Shepherd's Bush' light up because he was frozen, staring at the doorway.   
  
Harry was dressed as a knight. He was stood there, the reflections of the candles in the room making his shiny armour appear to glow with a golden light of its own, looking awkward and a little embarrassed as the word 'Knightsbridge' lit up on the map. Draco wanted to run across the room and just _lick_ him. Harry took a step forward, clanking loudly as he did so, and his face flushed red. Draco licked his lips at the sight, then looked away with a blush of his own. When he looked back, Harry was staring at him. Draco's breath caught, until he remembered the six-foot wings and stupid gold face-paint. Of course Harry was staring at him: everyone had when they first saw him tonight. He turned away, dispirited. He looked back though, when he heard a crash. Harry had stumbled, the weight of the armour pulling him down, as he tripped over the small bridge floating alongside him. Draco winced. That armour was beautiful, but it looked really uncomfortable. Especially when falling over.  
  
While Harry was distracted Draco took the opportunity to look at him for just a little longer. Even with the metal plates and chain mail, it was clear that Harry was lean below his broad shoulders. Draco sighed. He could already see that tonight would be a new torture - every little clang and he would be looking over, only to see Harry looking beautiful and unworldly and totally, totally unobtainable.  
  
When Draco finally turned away, not wanting to watch the indignity of a toilet and an elephant pulling Harry to his feet, he jumped as he found himself confronted by a large quantity of green foliage. He tried to control his surprise, not wanting to upset Hermione. Although what had possessed her? He had only recently stopped making jokes about her bushy hair. A part of him wondered if perhaps she had done it on purpose, to test how serious he was about being nicer to her. Well, two could play at that game. Harry might leave him speechless, but Draco had long enjoyed a prickly friendship with Hermione.  
  
"Lovely bush, Hermione," he said, as smoothly as he could, arching one eyebrow. He smiled at her too.  
  
"Draco," she said, narrowing her eyes. "How... kind of you. And what a lovely dress you are wearing."   
  
He nodded. "Yes, very good, a dress."  
  
"Brave though, coming as an angel, Draco," she said.  
  
"Well, it was Pansy's idea. She said it would make me look–" he paused, suddenly horrified. He didn't want to sound like a total braggart. "She said it would look, er, good, on me," he mumbled. Hermione looked him up and down.  
  
"I hate to admit it, but she might have been right. Wait, so she chose your outfit?"  
  
"Yes," said Draco. He didn't know whether it was good that he hadn't chosen to dress as an angel, or just pathetic that his best friend chose his clothes. He sighed, fearing that either option would provide more ammunition for a bit of friendly teasing.  
  
Mercifully they were both distracted by Blaise dunking his trunk in Luna's bowl and spraying the water up in the air, causing toilet water to rain down on all the people nearby. Hermione shuddered. "I don't think I needed to see that," she said. She turned back to Draco, a strange little smile on her face. It looked almost... fond. She reached out and touched his arm. "It's funny that Pansy dressed you for tonight," and Draco braced himself for a caustic remark or even just a bit of gentle ribbing. "Because Harry was a miserable git about dressing up too. I chose his outfit, in the end." Draco looked over at Harry, surprised. He was standing at the edge of the room, his bridge already abandoned in a corner, watching Blaise's progress through the room.  
  
"But he looks so go–" Draco broke off, flushing. Harry still looked lickable.  
  
"I take it you approve, then?" Hermione asked, sounding amused.   
  
"What? Oh yes, er, very nice," said Draco, looking back at her, his cheeks burning. He felt a little caught out. Which he was, he supposed. Draco blinked.  Hermione must have noticed the blushing. He was used to admiring from a distance, but the thought of Harry's friends knowing? They might laugh at him – even more than they did already. And this was personal. He looked at Hermione, apprehensive of what he might see in her face, but she still just looked amused. He sighed.  
  
"That's what I was going for," she said. "Very nice," and she walked off smirking, leaving Draco to squirm as he wondered what she meant, exactly.  
  
As the evening wore on, It seemed that most people had come to the conclusion that the only way to get away from the fact that everyone looked at least slightly ridiculous was to drink, lots. Draco didn't drink much though, too scared of what he might say or do around Harry if he let go, even a little bit. Even without Pansy's help, he usually tried to find excuses to talk to Harry. Although he knew he was excellent at making potions, he sometimes got delayed or had to check on a batch if it was meant for Harry. It would also be easy enough to pay for his potions to be delivered to St Mungo's, but he personally delivered them all, in the hope of seeing Harry. He hated beer and pubs but forced himself to go along with Blaise, just so he could sit near Harry.   
  
If only they could ever talk about anything other than work or Quidditch. After the war they had talked properly a few times, when Harry had put him up at Grimmauld Place after the Manor had been burnt to the ground by some rather overzealous wizards bent on revenge. Over cups of tea, the two of them had made their peace. Draco had discovered that Harry was not the vain attention-seeker he had always assumed he was, nor was he unwilling to forgive his former enemies. The more he saw of Harry, the more he liked him. There had been a point when he had thought it might become something more, but it had fizzled out when he had moved away to start as a Potions apprentice. The next time he had seen Harry their tentative friendship had turned into this ridiculous, awkward, matey acquaintance instead.  
  
A hand on his arm startled Draco out of his reverie, but before he could see who it was or say anything, he was roughly grabbed and found himself shoved into a corner behind a large plant with broad leaves. For a moment he fantasised that Harry had come to his senses and was going to ravish him, but was disappointed to see that it was just Pansy, with a drink in her hand.  
  
"Darling, drink up," she said, handing Draco the glass of champagne. He took it, reluctantly. "Oh just look at you! Cheer up, Draco. You look like someone's stolen your halo. I decided it was time for an intervention, before you moped yourself into permanent single-dom."  
  
"Sorry, Pansy," mumbled Draco. "It's just–" he stopped, his attention drawn by something glimpsed through the leaves, on the other side of the room. All of a sudden he felt a little more cheerful. "Pansy, is that an arrow in one of Theo's columns?"  
  
"Maybe," she answered, her lips curling into a secretive smile.  
  
"Theo?" he asked.  
  
"You're not the only one to hope to get something out of this party, Draco," she said, hitching her bosom in her formidable bodice. "Although I rather hope my chances are better than yours – no offence, Darling, but you haven't even spoken to him, have you?" Draco shook his head.  
  
"No, not yet. But what about you? Have you done more than shoot arrows?" She smiled mysteriously.  
  
"That's for me to know and you to... well actually, not know. My plans are not for sharing," and she chuckled darkly. Draco shook his head. Once Pansy set her sights on someone, it was only a matter of time. It was, of course, one of the reasons his own infatuation with Harry frustrated her so much. Then something occurred to him.  
  
"He's a little close to home, isn't he?" remembering that Pansy had been quite interested in him back in the fifth or sixth year at Hogwarts. Pansy blushed and Draco was, for a moment, speechless. "You really like him, don't you?" His eyes widened as instead of protesting, Pansy's blush merely deepened.  
  
"Oh look, more champagne," said Pansy, and she scuttled off, leaving Draco laughing quietly to himself. She really had cheered him up: it was nice to know that the warrior woman was capable of a little crushing herself.  
  
Draco was still stood there, smiling and thinking of ways to tease Pansy, when he became aware of metallic clanking and froze. Harry was on the other side of the plant. He heard a low voice, slurring its was through a jumbled sentence. Harry was with an elephant. A very drunk elephant sitting astride a pink castle. _Blaise_.   
  
He really didn't want to listen in on their conversation, but Draco was trapped. He couldn't just step out from behind a plant and squeeze past them. It would look odd. He held himself and his stupid wings absolutely still. His breathing sounded loud to his own ears.  
  
"Harry, my old mucker, you're such a gent, you really are, I should thank you, I really should," Draco didn't need to see Harry to know he was red all the way to the tips of his ears. Merlin, Blaise must be drunk. He only thanked Harry for 'letting' him date Ginny when he had drunk more than was sensible. "She's so wonderful, my little red-haired minx. An animal," there was a dull thud, probably as Blaise prodded Harry on the shoulder, "a beast in the bedroom. Not that you'd know anything about that!" He lowered his voice to a coarse whisper. "She's told me, y'know, that it was never your, er, forté."  
  
"Blaise," Harry pleaded in a strangled voice. "Please, please stop there. You'll regret it in the morning." Blaise merely trumpeted his trunk in a rude noise.  
  
"Nonsense! Anyway, what's a woman, between friends?"  
  
"You better not let Ginny hear you talk like that. You know she won't like it," said Harry in warning, and with more patience than Draco could bear. Personally he would have kicked Blaise and told him to sod off by now. But then Harry was gentle with everyone.  
  
"Ginny, sweet Ginny. My gal. My beautiful angel," Blaise's voice rolled through the superlatives, tears creeping in by the end. He sniffed, loudly. "Still, you've got your angel, haven't you. Every time I see his silly golden face, it's mooning after you." Suddenly Draco's heart was beating so loud and fast, he was sure he would be discovered. Or it was going to tear its way right out of his chest. He clamped his teeth together and forced himself to drag in an unsteady breath.  
  
"I– I don't know what you mean," said Harry in a weak voice. Blaise harrumphed.  
  
"You must be blind not to see it, Harry. That idiot has been pinning after you for years, now." There was a pause, and Draco heard what sounded like a whispered "No–"  
"Merlin's knickers, you really are blind," said Blaise, a little more quietly. "It's y'know, unrequited whats-it, unrequited love."  
  
Draco closed his eyes and swayed. The room started to spin, and there was no air.   
  
His panic was interrupted by a resounding crash. From the sounds of it, Harry had fallen over again. There were more crashes as Blaise 'helped' him up. It was only when he heard Ron's steady voice that Draco forced himself to breath again. There was a muffled "You ok, mate? You've gone awfully pale," and then a steady clanking as Ron led Harry away. Draco waited a moment, blinking back the prickle in his eyes. He made his way out, glaring at Blaise as he squeezed past. Blaise looked at him with unfocused eyes. "Draco!" he said, his head rolling back in surprise. "What you doing there?" he stopped, a look of pantomime horror on his blue face. He looked at Draco, then at the direction Harry had gone in, then back again, He managed to sound contrite as he mumbled "S'rry, Draco."  
  
Draco ignored Blaise. There was no point talking to him when he was this drunk, and he probably wouldn't remember it in the morning anyway. Draco looked around the room, desperate for an exit. He couldn't leave though, not dressed as a bloody angel, and there was no way he was making his way up Pansy's grand staircase for everyone to stare at. He caught sight of the door below the stairs. It held a small cloakroom – not a euphemism for anything else, but an actual room for storing coats.  
  
Moving as nonchalantly as he could, Draco made his way across the room until he was standing in front of the door. Checking that no one was looking, he opened it and stepped inside. As the door shut behind him, Draco held out his wand and whispered a quiet _Lumos_ , then frowned in puzzlement. He'd always thought it was a coats-only cloakroom, but he seemed to be staring into a white toilet bowl. The sound of a throat clearing made him look up, straight into the wide eyes of Luna. It took a moment for his confusion to clear. Waterloo. Right.  
  
"Who are you hiding from, Draco?" she whispered.  
  
"Everyone," he answered, and she nodded, sagely. "And you?"  
  
"Greg," she whispered back. "I can't work out if he wants to kiss me or if he just wants somewhere to throw up." Draco looked at her in horror.  
  
"I'm– er– I'm not sure which would be worse," he said. She giggled.  
  
"I'd rather not experience either. He just kept lurching at me, so I came in here. My coat's here, somewhere," she added, somewhat pointlessly.  
  
"Mine too," whispered Draco. He paused before continuing, "I wanted to run away but there's no way I can leave looking like this."  
  
"You'd cause accidents, you know. You do look rather spectacular," Luna smiled. Draco sighed.  
  
"These wings do rather stand out, don't they?" he said.  
  
"I wasn't talking about the wings, Draco," she said quietly. "I was talking about you."  
  
"Oh," said Draco, his face heating. "Um, thank you," he said. The shadows across their faces wavered as his wand arm shook.  
  
"Oh don't worry, I'm not going to jump you or anything. I can just appreciate how good you look tonight, aesthetically speaking. Just like I can appreciate how Harry looks, too. Those shoulders–" she broke off and hummed, then smiled shyly at Draco. "But you already know how good he looks, don't you?" Draco stared at her. Was there anyone who didn't know? He felt like it was a special everyone-look-at-Draco day, and he didn't like the feeling. There was a silence.  
  
"Sorry," she said. "It's personal, I know. I shouldn't have said anything." They stood together, unable to move in the cramped space. In the end Luna broke the silence. "I wish I'd come in something I could sit down in," she said, a little ruefully.  
  
"Me too!" said Draco. "My legs are beginning to ache."  
  
"The things we do for beauty," Luna sighed, dramatically. Draco looked down at the water sloshing in front of her, and the chain hanging down from her head, and then met her eye. They started laughing together, and ended up clutching onto each other for support.  
  
"This is silly, isn't it," she said. "After everything we've been through... we shouldn't be reduced to hiding like this." Luna looked Draco straight in the eye. "When I was held at Malfoy Manor, I began to think that you seemed just as trapped as me," she paused, and smiled gently. "But we both got free, didn't we?" Draco nodded, and they looked at each other for a moment longer.  
  
"No more hiding?" he asked her, holding out his hand.  
  
"No more hiding," she answered, and took his hand. They walked out of the cupboard, both blinking in the suddenly bright light of the chandeliers. Someone wolf-whistled and Luna's face creased into a smile. "Go," she whispered out of the side of her mouth. "Go find him. No more hiding." Draco looked at her with affection, and pressed a kiss to her shiny, cold cheek.   
  
"Thank you," he whispered. She just smiled in return, her eyes lit up and genuine warmth on her face.  
  
Draco didn't know where to start looking for Harry, so he wandered though the room, past Greg passed out on an elegant chaise longue along the wall, glad that Luna didn't have to worry about his lurching any more. He paused when he came across Pansy and Theo, sat together just inside her drawing room, arms wrapped tightly round each other and tongues down each other's throats. It obviously hadn't taken Pansy long to get her way, but he was happy for her. And not just because it meant that her attention was off him.  
  
Looking around the room he saw that Luna had found Ernie and they were already in the middle of some animated discussion, the water sloshing as she moved around. Blaise and Ginny were sat with Neville, Hannah, Daphne and Terry. They were all chatting quietly on the group of settees and armchairs by the fire, the Chinese Dragon costume discarded on the floor behind them. The mood in the room had changed from earlier on; the evening had reached that mellow point when enough had been imbibed for everyone to have relaxed. They were all getting on fine. More than fine, in the case of Pansy and Theo.  
  
At the far end of the room, looking out of the window into the darkness of the night, stood Harry. Draco took a deep breath, and walked up to him. He got all the way there without Harry noticing him, even though Draco could see his reflection clearly in the window; an angel approaching a knight. Harry was completely lost in thought, and Draco tapped him lightly on the arm to get his attention. Harry spun round, saw Draco, and fell over with a clatter. He sat on the floor, looking dazed.  
  
"Draco," he said. Draco held out his hand to help haul Harry up. Harry's hand was warm in his. Draco grasped his arm with his other hand and pulled. His heart started its wild beating again, at the thought that he had Harry in his arms, and he had to force himself to let go once Harry was upright. "Thanks. This thing is a bit of nightmare, to be honest. It weighs a bloody ton."  
  
"Have you cast a lightening charm?" asked Draco.  
  
Harry's eyes widened. "I didn't think of that!" Draco pulled out his wand and held it up in question. Harry nodded immediately, and then sighed with relief as Draco cast the charm and made his armour lighter. "That is so much better, thank you, Draco," groaned Harry. Draco's heart was racing just from touching Harry and hearing the noise he'd just made.  
  
"Sorry I startled you," he said.  
  
"Oh, I was miles away. Mostly though, I was just trying not to see them," and he gestured behind him and grimaced. Draco looked over his shoulder and turned a little green. Snuggled up on a divan in a dark corner of the room, a dog appeared to be molesting a bush. Or a sheep. It was strangely compelling, in a sick kind of way.  
  
"Bloody hell," said Draco. "I don't know whether to run away or... Merlin, or join in. You have to admit, that's almost... hot." They stood and watched clinically for a moment. Draco turned to Harry. "I've decided. I want to run away," Harry nodded straight away, and they made their way through the room. As Draco passed Luna she gave him an cheery thumbs up, mouthing the words "no more hiding", and he smiled.  
  
As soon as they'd left the room Ron and Hermione broke apart.  
  
"I think that worked," grinned Ron.  
  
"I don't see why we should stop," said Hermione, rather breathlessly. "I was enjoying myself." She had the glow of self-satisfaction about her though, and took a moment to nod in silent approval at Pansy before turning her attention back to Ron.  
  
Draco led Harry into Pansy's wood-panelled dining room. He looked longingly at the high-backed chairs. Harry didn't sit either, and he realised that he was just as encumbered by his costume. They stood, awkwardly. Draco couldn't remember the last time they'd been alone together. It had been years.  
  
"I could murder a cup of tea," said Harry, perhaps also remembering those long rainy afternoons at Grimmauld Place. He moved to the window, looking out again. "I have no idea how Hermione persuaded me come here tonight, let alone dress in this get-up," he murmured. Sighing, he turned back to Draco. "But I'm glad I came," he whispered. "I had an interesting chat with Blaise, earlier," Draco stopped breathing. "He said something which I'd never–" he took a step towards Draco. "Do you remember how we talked, when you stayed with me?" Draco nodded, not daring to open his mouth. "I saw another side to you, back then. It– How I felt scared me, a little. But I think I've grown up since then," he looked at Draco through heavy dark lashes, his glasses adding something endearingly geeky to his knight's armour. He took another step forwards. When he spoke again, his voice was low and husky. "Do you have any idea how you look tonight?" Draco shook his head. "I've fallen over every time I've seen you. What does that tell you?"  
  
"That you're clumsy?" offered Draco, smiling. This time he took a step forward. They were now standing opposite each other. Draco took one more step, and they were stood close enough that Draco could see each rivet in Harry's breast plate. Close enough that he could reach out and touch it, if he wanted to. Instead it was Harry who touched his hand to the side of Draco's face.  
  
"Golden," he whispered. He held onto the side of Draco's jaw gently, then pulled him in and kissed him. Draco closed his eyes. Harry's skin was warm, his stubble catching ever so softly on his own face, and he smelt of leather and metal. Harry pulled back, his face uncertain, hope brimming in his eyes. "Draco?" he asked, and Draco stared at this man in front of him, this hero standing there in a suit of shining armour. Draco smiled.  
  
"Harry," he answered, and pulled him in for the kind of kiss no angel had ever given before.  
  
 _-fin-_


End file.
